


Blue Balls

by Boi_Marsh



Series: Stendy Stories [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Blue Balls, Boners, Bored and Horny, College, Erections, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Lust, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Teen Romance, Top Stan Marsh, male orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14913569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boi_Marsh/pseuds/Boi_Marsh
Summary: Stan got blue balls and he hates them, but Wendy knows the perfect way to help Stan’s issue.





	Blue Balls

I threw my head onto the table, throwing my pencil down. I looked at the couch, where Stan was laying and groaning and moaning. He's been doing that for the past four hours. "What is wrong with you?" I asked. I then noticed he wasn't wearing his pants, or boxers.

"My balls hurt," he groaned. "Wendy, you're smart. Fix me."

"I can't fix you," I said. "I don't even know what's wrong."

"Gee, maybe it has to do with the fact that we haven't done any type of fucking in two months."

"I'm trying to get a degree here," I said, gesturing to my work.

"My fucking balls hurt," he whined again, moving his arms to above his head, revealing his fully erected penis. Damnit, I was getting horny. "Are you trying to tell me you haven't felt the least bit horny in two months?"

"Nope, not at all," I lied, getting up. I went over to him and saw that his balls were a soft tint of blue. "What the hell? Why are they blue?"

"It's called blue balls, Smart Ass," Stan retorted.

"Do you want my help or not?" I asked, crossing my arms. "What did you do to your balls?"

"Why do you think I did something?" Stan asked.

"Cause your head is full of crap," I said.

"Well I actually did nothing," he stated. "Look it up, blue balls is what happens when you keep getting hard but don't do shit about it. Blue because deoxygenated blood is all up in your balls."

"Well," I said, shrugging. "Nothing I could do."

"Wendy," Stanley whined. "Please. It hurts so bad."

"But—"

"I just need to cum, and I can't jerk myself because it hurts too bad and I am sensitive," he pleaded. "Please Wendy, I've never asked for something so much."

"One, that's not true, but I'll ignore it," I stated. "Two, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't care just please Wendy," he pleaded.

"Okay, okay, just relax," I said calmly. I could barely bring myself to look at him, he looked so sad and desperate. I went back to the table and grabbed my chair, bringing it back to Stan.

"Does it hurt when I touch it?" I asked, gently brushing my fingers along the base of his dick. He whinced, holding his breath.

"Yes, very much," Stan said. "Ju-just help me. Please."

"Okay, just relax," I said reassuringly. "Do you want me to jerk you?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, taking a shaky breath. "Wendy, please, hurry."

"I love you, okay? And I'm sorry if I hurt you, cause you seem to be really sensitive," I said.

"What're you gonna do?" he asked, looking at me.

"What did I tell you?" I asked, standing up.

"You're not gonna make this easy, are you?" I smiled, pecking his lips.

"See, your brain isn't totally seaweed," I teased, straightening up. "Can you get up and get to your room?"

"I can try," he said. He sat up and groaned, closing his eyes. "Could you help me up?" I nodded, then helped get him off the couch.

"Of my freaking God," he groaned. "Wendy, Wendy." He squeezed my arm tighter. "Oh fuck, I don't think I'm gonna make it."

"Come on, it's not that far," I said, walking slowly with him.

"Why do I even have to go to my room? I've been laying on the couch for days without any type of pants, why is today so different?"

"Because unlike you I am not gonna fuck in the living room if I have a choice," I said, pushing open his room door. "Look, were already here."

He flopped onto his bed in the center, letting out a groan. "Oh fuck, Wendy, please help me. Fast."

I pulled my shirt over my head, messing up my ponytail. I laced my fingers into the basketball shorts I stole from Stan, sliding them along with my panties down. I unclasped my bra, tossing it to the side. I climbed on top of Stan, kissing him softly before pulling back.

I lowered myself into him, moaning in the process. Stan groaned, scrunching his face up in pain. "Hurt that bad?" I asked, and he nodded.

"I trust you'll make me feel better," he said, looking at me, his sea green eyes filled with lust.

"Shit," I mumbled. "Condom." He lifted his head, pulling the small package from his pillowcase. I lifted myself off of him so he could told the latex on, and didn't descend until his hands were on my hips, guiding me back down.

From underneath me, he pounded up and down into me. I didn't even feel like trying to keep quiet; loud moans filled the room, along with Stan's groans and grunts. Then he forcefully grabbed my hips, pushing me off of him and on my back. He climbed on top of me, then began thrusting in and it again. "You aren't hurting anymore?" I asked before moaning loudly.

"I don't give a fuck anymore," Stan said, pounding harder. There was no rhythm, just desperation. Sloppy, uneven and hard pounding, shallow and panting breathing, loud, uneven moans, and Stan and me, together.

He thrust all the way in, groaning loudly; I could feel the condom stretching as he came hard, groaning loudly. He then collapsed on top of me, trying his best not to rest too much on me. "Feel better?" I asked, kissing his neck.

He responded in a moan, then rolled off of me and onto his back. I got his condom off and tied it up, then rolled on top of him. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up at me. I leaned down and connected or lips, running my hands in his hair. He pulled out my hair tie, my hair falling around my shoulders. I pulled back, smiling at him.

"You owe me," I said. He chuckled, then looked down my body.

"Anything specific you'd like?" Stan asked, his eyes trained on my boobs.

"I had to stop studying because of you," I accused him.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked, sticking or his bottom lip.

"No, you are horrible at helping me study," I stated.

"I can help you study some math," he said. "Here's the equation: add the bed, minus the clothes, divide the legs, equals us right now."

I laughed, leaning over and giving him a tender kiss.


End file.
